


(Love is) Ugly, Smooth, and Delicate

by clouder (selfinduced)



Category: Smallville
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Red Kryptonite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2004-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfinduced/pseuds/clouder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warrior Angel and custard-filled donuts solve all the world's problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Love is) Ugly, Smooth, and Delicate

**  
_Clark_  
**

  
Vergis Labs, Metropolis. 10:23AM  


  
 _Fear_.  


  
He can feel the effects of green kryptonite running up his veins, cackling with malicious frenzy and it hurts less than it used to a few years ago, but it still hurts like hell.  


  
Clark had been aware of being watched, had known what it felt like from his time in Metropolis the summer before his junior year of high school. He thought it was something that could be handled the same way. Let them come to him, let them confront. Then pull the ground out from under their feet.  


  
Clark is a moron.  


  
Of _course_ they have kryptonite. The whole criminal underworld of Metropolis probably knows of his susceptibility to it after Edge. Not that Clark thinks the people holding him are that low-profile.  


  
No, judging by their elaborate facilities, this has to be Lionel's money. The elder Luthor was arrested a couple years ago, pending on a death-sentence for the murder of his own parents, but that doesn't mean he can't communicate to the outside world when he chooses. Clark should've known.  


  
It's eerily reminiscent of Summerholt and Dr. Garner's Memory Tank and the fear is a living thing gripping at him, clawing at his skin as much as the effects of green kryptonite.  


  
No Lex to save him, this time.  


  
There are shackles on his wrist and he keeps shaking and squirming against the metal table he's being strapped to. But he can't get away from it and there's this anger building up in him, strengthened by the fear, and he grabs on to it because it's all he has.  


  
He has to keep calm, has to stay aware of his surroundings for any opportunity to get away.  


  
" _Hold him still_ , _he should be very weak right about now_."  


  
He keeps his eyes closed and tries to be as quiet as he can, wishing it was possible for him to be truly unconscious. But these days, even kryptonite can't knock him out and the touch of cold steel--they're cutting off his clothes--brings a fresh new wave of panic. He feels the bile rising in his throat, and bites right through his tongue when they lift the table upright.  


  
They're arguing about something. Red. Red versus green and Clark realizes they have red kryptonite as soon as it gets near him and he can feel its effects melding in with the green.  


  
The salty metallic tang of blood fills his mouth and his anger takes over everything. Red haze pervading his consciousness like the very air and he almost laughs when the men in white coats come to a decision.  


  


  
" _The red meteorite has the same effect on his veins as the green_. _We can_ ' _t discern the effects specific to the red without taking away the green_."  


  
" _But what if we can't restrain him with just the red meteorite_?"  


  
" _It's still meteorite_ , _I doubt the properties are that different_. _However, the green meteorite is everywhere in this building and I'm sure we can restrain him again if needed_."  


  


  
His strength comes back immediately once the green kryptonite is taken away. Clark feels himself healing and smiles slowly.  


  
Idiots.  


  
 **Downtown, Metropolis. 10:28AM**  


  
Clark swaggers through the streets of Metropolis, in no particular hurry, though with a destination in mind.  


  
He could use a change of clothes, what with the ones he put on this morning before he was kidnapped by Lionel's men hanging in shreds from his dusty body.  


  
He laughs, remembering the completely destroyed buildings he left behind. His clothes got the better end of the deal, really. But he superspeeds in and out of a nearby store, grabbing some new ones and a long jacket, just on principle.  


  
It took a few microseconds of finding the right chemicals, switches, and locations and the place was blowing up all around him with the green kryptonite safely buried under lead. Lots of it.  


  
Humans. His mouth curls into a sneer of disdain at their incompetence.  


  
Lex could've done so much better.  


  
A slow, sharp grin spreads across his face. He has a date with Lex today, to catch up after a week of not being able to see each other at all. And Clark has completely changed his mind about what they'll be doing.  


  
Heads are turning towards him with admiring eyes and Clark remembers.  


  
Lex likes this kind of jacket on him.  


  
Grins because Lex might like it even better now that Clark will let him take it off. Along with all his other clothes.  


  
He passes a bakery and snatches a few custard-filled donuts on superspeed as well. He missed breakfast, being strapped to a metallic table for most of the night and all. Clark narrows his eyes menacingly at one donut. It wasn't even for anything _fun_. Just a bunch of creepy men in white jackets that were the farthest thing from sexually attractive.  


  
In fact, the words sexually attractive and those men shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence together, because.  


  
Ew.  


  
 **LexCorp Penthouse, Metropolis. 10:31AM**  


  
" _What you_ ' _re saying is that Vergis Labs are really a subsidiary of LuthorCorp_?"  


  
" _No_ , _well_ , _maybe_. _I just know that it's definitely being funded by LuthorCorp_. _And that's all I can tell you without compromising my story_."  


  
" _I understand_. _If you_ \--"  


  
Clark licks the custard and powdered sugar off of his fingers and rings the bell.  


  
Those labs will no longer be a problem for anyone to worry about.  


  
Straightens from his indulgent slouch against the door when it opens, and smiles bright _sharp_ at Lex.  


  
"Hey," his voice is low and warm as he puts his hands on Lex's shoulders. Doesn't quite wait for Lex to react before he slides them down Lex's chest and around to his sides, pulling him in close.  


  
"Clark," Lex murmurs, "I didn't think you'd make it. Pete said you never went home last night."  


  
He smirks into Lex's throat, "Sorry, I was a little tied up." And his nose is skimming just inches above the skin of Lex's neck, about to mouth, when his eyes fall on the woman sitting on the couch, watching them with interest. He moves his lips up to whisper almost accusingly into Lex's ear, "I see you found another date."  


  
Lex seems to collect himself, straightening from Clark's arms and backing off.  


  
"Clark, I'd like you to meet--"  


  
"Lois Lane." Clark moves to shake her hand. Turns his now-perpetual smile at Lex for a second--just enough to make his knees feel like they belong to the teenage schoolgirl he never was--before focusing it on Lois, "She's Chloe's cousin."  


  
"I didn't know you and Lex were close, Clark." Lois's voice is a study in casual understatement.  


  
Clark laughs and tilts his head at her charmingly.  


  
"What, Lex didn't tell you about his best friend?"  


-

 **Lex**  


  
He watches with a growing sense of what he refuses to call dismay as Lois and Clark chat away as if they've known each other for years. Clark looks like he'd be all over her if she let him and she looks as if she just might.  


  
Lex reminds himself that this is Lois Lane, and it's highly unlikely that she'll to let anyone all over her, let alone a-- _currently charming and utterly gorgeous_ \--freshman from Met U that once dated her little cousin.  


  
Lois seems bent on proving him wrong as she reaches out to brush her hand over Clark's arm, laughing at something he said.  


  
His farm boy--not his, and not really a farm boy anymore--is totally focused on Lois, except for the occasional glances he throws Lex that make his stomach lurch in ways that he knows isn't physically possible.  


  
Clark's eyes are heated. Lex can almost swear he sees glints of redgold fire in them, and his palms are just slightly damp when he tips his head back to take a swallow from his glass. It's empty.  


  
He doesn't think either of them will notice, and silently heads for the wet bar across the room.  


  
Clark's speaking in a smooth, low tone that's impossible to tune out and reminds him of an incident three years ago involving his red Ferrari and a $2,000 coat. Much like the one the boy is wearing today, actually.  


  
Back then he still believed Clark could be affected by drugs.  


  
Though he knows better now, despite Clark never admitting it outright, he wonders what else it could be. This substance that makes sudden, unannounced appearances in their lives and generally makes his a living hell of frustration.  


  
And Lex is having a hard time figuring out if this is really _that_ Clark, because none of the former incidents have included Clark actually feeling Lex up. Blatantly eyeing him and making innuendo-laden comments, about as subtle as a train-wreck, sure. But no actual inappropriate touching. His breath hitches a little, remembering Clark's lips almost on his skin, warm breath brushing by his ear. Fuck.  


  
He's only a little surprised when he turns to the sound of the door opening and closing, a few swallows of Armagnac later, and finds Lois gone.  


  
"Clark?" he drawls, sounding faintly amused.  


  
He's far from drunk, after only one glass, so Clark suddenly being right in front of him instead of by the door can only mean that--  


  
"Yeah, Lex?"  


  
Clark's voice is soft and husky, arms on either side of Lex's waist caging him against the bar and it's a little hard to think when Clark's looking down at him with wide, green eyes like sincerity personified.  


  
It makes him almost sway a little before he can look away.  


  
"Uh." he swallows, mouth falling open a little, and watches with fascination as Clark leans in closer, tracking the movement. "Clark, I..." He can't quite finish what he's saying.  


  
Because Clark is skimming his lips down the sharp curve of Lex's jaw line before kissing his bottom lip, and all he can think of is heat.  


  
Soft and open and, he should've probably expected this. Probably. Clark taking as if he knows there's nothing Lex will do to stop him, knows that he doesn't even want to. Because it's _always_ like that with everything, isn't it?  


  
But, it's a little hard to concentrate when Clark's tongue is licking and sucking at his and Christ--he's already hard.  


  
"This is." Lex tries to remember where his own hands are and discovers one gripping the edge of the bar behind him, "This is kind of a bad idea." the other clutching the glass of scotch, reflexive.  


  
His attempt at a calm demeanor is probably ruined by the way his voice goes lower and lower until it breaks a little on the last word. Fingers big enough to completely encircle his upper arm slip under his shirt, buttons somehow ending up all over the floor in the process. The hands are overwarm and possessive on his skin, curling around his side, pulling him close to the perpetual heat of Clark's body.  


  
"We shouldn't," He does sway a little this time, nowhere to lean but forward for support. "You're not. You're--"  


  
Concentrating has gone completely to hell and he can't hear much over the pounding of his heartbeat anyway. Clark can probably hear it even better than he can. It's all so typical-Clark in its unfairness towards Lex when Clark brushes his fingers over Lex's mouth and murmurs into his ear.  


  
"Shhh," like that can stop Lex from thinking and he's so, _so_ not going to--okay, yes, yes he is. He's got three of those fingers sucked into his mouth up to the first knuckle and they're brushing around the inside of his cheeks like a particularly creative scene from a porno.  


  
Un _fair_. High on God-knows-what and molesting Lex like Lex is some saint who actually has the power to resist Clark touching his skin like he can't get enough. Lex certainly can't.  


  
That loud moan is coming from _him_. He's actually _moaning_ , body moving up into Clark's touch like it has no resistance skills whatsoever and well, he doesn't, really. Not with Clark.  


  
 _So_ fucked.  


  
His hand gives up the glass, hearing it thud to the floor, as he scrabbles at Clark, closing into a fist in the dark hair. Clark's making dark noises against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, biting and sucking.  


  
And, he's a big boy now, right?--the responsible part of Lex is making one last attempt at justification--It shouldn't be all Lex's responsibility to keep him from taking advantage of his very, very willing best friend when Clark gets high on whatever makes him high and isn't known to Lex so Lex can't protect Clark from it _anyway_ and.  


  
Clark's voice is hoarse as he licks his lips and says, "I want you on your knees" tongue flickering against the bruise that's surely forming in the hollow of his throat after those bites.  


  
Lex thinks he'd do anything he's told to right now, with Clark pressing into him, dragging the heel of his left hand over the front of Lex's slacks once, hard.  


  
But he's not letting Lex down anywhere, undoing the ridiculously expensive leather belt and going on his own knees, nose inches from Lex's crotch.  


  
The smile Clark turns up at him is all sharp teeth and predatory glint of the eyes and he's vaguely confused but can't really help pushing into those hands as they unzip his pants, and wrap themselves around his cock.  


  
Stroking, and grinning, and this is definitely not his usual Clark, the thought hurts like a frighteningly deep stab wound for a brief moment, but. The way Clark leans forward to lick, slow and hot, makes Lex envision odd things like glass melting and his hands flail in the air for a minute, damp palms slipping against the surface of the nearest wall.  


  
Thinks that maybe Clark hasn't done this ever before and this isn't really how he'd imagined their first time. Not that he'd actually expected one, but it was--he should say something, he should--  


  
Oh. "Fuck, _Clark_." Reaches out to touch the side of Clark's cheek, stroking lightly.  


  
Because the sight of that red, red mouth wrapped around the head of his cock is like the best kind of porn and he can't let himself go. Can't loose himself in the sensation because he needs to _see_ this.  


  
Except, there's nothing indecisive about the way Clark's tongue is flattening itself against the head of his cock before sliding off, making him groan low in his throat at the loss, cool air on wet skin for the longest second until he's completely inside Clark's mouth.  


  
Shallow thrusts into that throat and hands clenching into fists in Clark's hair, tugging as if he actually has a say in how that head moves--which he doesn't because aside from encouraging Lex to go deeper, Clark is an immovable force of nature.  


  
Lex is so far beyond any semblance of control it's making some inner, Luthorian-control-freak part of him go insane.  


  
But it's Clark's mouth. On _his_ cock.  


  
And whoever said that a blowjob was just a blowjob was just a blowjob obviously had the mental capacity of a retarded squirrel.  


  
Not like his own mental capacity's faring any better with Clark's fingertips--wet from being in Lex's mouth--skating up the inside of his thighs, brushing the pad of his thumb against his own lips where they meet Lex's skin before reaching up to rub tiny little circles right behind his balls.  


  
Circling and teasing with just enough pressure to make him think of what they could be doing, and if there's an edge for him to be pushed off of, it's now way behind him.  


  
Fucking _Clark_.  


  
His thighs shudder against Clark's cheeks and he's--he's coming so hard that the ceiling is spinning over him and he has to squeeze his eyes closed, slump back against the bar, not sure if he's said anything coherent in the string of noises that he just made.  


  
Clark is swallowing and wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, the bright grin saturated with smugness as he looks up to gauge Lex's reaction.  


  
"I take it that deepthroating works for even you?"  


  
This must be what Clark meant about wanting Lex on his knees, because he's sliding down to the floor, knees having given up to join the rest of his body in melting into uselessness. Clark catches him by the upper arms, pulling him in for a kiss.  


  
No, you. _You_ work for me.  


  
"Sure as hell beats watching cartoons." he says instead.  


  
Tries to smirk, pushing out of mind his behavior just a few minutes ago, and surreptitiously disentangle his feet from his boxers and pants.  


  
It's an odd coincidence that realization hits him at the same time as the taste of himself in Clark's mouth.  


  
"You," he licks at Clark's lower lip carefully, wanting to see it shiny and wet, "It's the red kind."  


  
Clark raises an eyebrow, tilting his head a little.  


  
"The red meteorites make you high."  


  
Dark eyes flicker--and that's different too, isn't it--the darkness of Clark's eyes when aroused is completely different from its usual mossy green or hazel. It's like looking at molten gold, literally hot and if he looks closely enough, he can almost see the flames.  


  
Clark smirks, grinning with one side of his mouth as if deciding something.  


  
It is doesn't take too long because Lex finds himself sprawled on his back beneath naked Clark in his bed after what seems like the space of one long blink. Interesting.  


  
"It's good that you know," Clark drawls, one hand pinning both of his wrists above their heads while he bites into the middle of Lex's chest.  


  
His other hand is digging into Lex's side, stroking in a way that would tickle if he wasn't so damned turned on.  


  
"Makes things easier." Clark adds, voice silky and smooth, like his body grinding down on Lex's, making his cock harden too fast too soon and he wants his hands free so he can _do_ something about the large hand that slides down to squeeze his ass and lift him.  


  
He bends his knees, the cool fabric slithering under his feet contrasts with the heat of Clark's skin making him sigh, and pushes up.  


  
"This would be," Clark seems to remember his mouth as soon as Lex talks and he's interrupted by a long, long kiss, by the end of which he doesn't quite remember what he was going to say because of the dark, heavy-lidded way Clark is looking at him makes his breath hitch.  


  
Sweat makes dark curls stick to Clark's forehead and Lex lifts his head to reach them, kisses turning wet and open-mouthed over the bright flush of Clark's cheekbones.  


  
Clark's smiles are always bright, but the one burning down at him is a strange mixture of lust and softness and hunger. He lets Lex's wrists free to cradle his face, eyes flickering closed when Lex turns his head to nuzzle at one palm.  


  
" _Lex_ ," he whispers fiercely, and there's a desperation in that word that Lex finds entirely confusing.  


  
Clark's eyes flare, and he nudges the leg that's wrapped in both of Lex's, and he's pushing one of those long fingers in as soon as he's got Lex's thighs apart.  


  
Knuckle by invading knuckle, and wiggling a bit in a way that makes Lex arch up, crying harshly, then rough and honeyed, begging. Because of the way Clark's crooking that finger, gazing at Lex as if he knows everything, _everything_ Lex could be thinking.  


  
Dropping kisses down the middle of his belly and to the side of his jutting cock to rest his mouth right under it, slow, slow lick over the curve of his balls to where his finger is curving inside of Lex.  


  
He shouldn't know how to do this so well, or at all, the jealousy screams at Lex's insides. But he obviously _does_ \--did Lex really think he was the first?--and it's so fucking _good_ , Lex is seeing red glints in Clark's eyes.  


  
Like seeing fireworks at the touch of Clark's tongue, bucking up like this, wanting-- _needing_ \--that knowing finger and the second, barely coherent yell, because it's--jesusfuck--never _ever_ been this good, not because it hasn't been _really_ good before, but it--  


  
But it hasn't been Clark.  


  
And that's the rub, isn't it?  


  
There's an almost bitter taste in the back of his throat as he remembers that this isn't really Clark. It's--fuck. It's something he promised himself he'd never do.  


  
Clark moves away, pushing Lex's legs apart farther and holding them there while he gets up on spread knees. Lex is feeling empty without those fingers already--doesn't even wonder when and how Clark got the lube--and it's fucking insane, but then Clark's cock is _inside_ of Lex.  


  
Careful and slow at first, pausing to let Lex adjust, and the only way Lex knows that it's costing him is that Clark is sweating and he almost _never_ sweats. Why would he, when most physical activities probably don't tax him in any way at all?  


  
But Clark is staring down at him, forehead wrinkled in concentration, his wetbruised mouth parted, and there's a drop of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose, gathering at the tip.  


  
Lex lifts up to lick it off.  


  
Salty taste coating his tongue as he groans, moving into Clark's rhythm, feeling as if they've always been doing this forever or at least, they _should_ have been.  


  
"You're still thinking." Clark growls lowly, "That's not allowed." he licks at an earlobe. Then slams in harder, and Lex is grabbing onto the headboard, digging his heels into the mattress to meet those thrusts in kind.  


  
It's almost vicious in a way, clashing against each other, over and over, but Clark's lips at his shoulder are almost gentle, hissing when Lex squeezes his muscles around Clark's cock.  


  
"Fuck, _Lex_!"  


  
And Lex wants to hear that again. Again and again and again until his whole mind is an echo of nothing but Clark's screams, making him forget what he's just let himself get into.  


  
Clark seems only too happy to oblige, grabbing onto Lex's hips with enough force that Lex knows will leave handprints at the very least, and sliding his entire body up and down on his lap.  


  
Such a blatant display of strength shouldn't be the incredible turn-on that it is, but Lex has never been into obeying his shoulds and shouldn'ts.  


  
He rocks back at Clark one last time before losing himself in a brighthot haze of bliss, unable to care less about the thunking sound of his head falling back against wood and how much it should hurt.  


  
Only aware of the pulsing of Clark's release inside of him, and the fact that Clark is yelling possessively at Lex about how Lex is _his_ and not Lois's or anyone else's. Because _he_ loves Lex, and he's _always_ loved Lex. And Lex is all his, his, his, his, _his_.  


  
Lex could almost laugh at the irony.  


-  
 **Clark**  


  
Clark had a dream. He was high on red kryptonite again, and this time Lex was alive and not married and Clark had gone right up to Lex and done all the things he'd always wanted to and Lex had _let_ him. Just _thinking_ about it makes Clark hard-- _hours_ of sex. With _Lex_.  


  
He grins and reaches down to touch himself, finding that there aren't any clothes in his way. Like, at all.  


  
But there _is_ a warm body and--he knows it's Lex because he just remembered.  


  
Shit.  


  
Also, way to go, Clark. Score one for the farm boy! Because, Chloe's sophisticated older cousin isn't the one in bed with Lex, and if Clark has his way--which he will, of course--no one else is going to be, either. Heh.  


  
Clark climbs out carefully, just standing there and watching Lex for a minute, brushing a possessive hand down the bare skin, before he heads for the kitchen.  


  


  
Lex had called last night while he was trying to make some headway with his research on Vergis Labs.  


  
\--It wasn't anywhere close to being _his_ article, especially not in Met U's newspaper, but he'd seen the screen of Lois Lane's laptop when he went to pick up Chloe and glanced across the name "Lionel Luthor" in conjunction with it and gotten curious.  


  
Lex's dad was in jail mainly with the charge of murdering his own parents, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to know _everything_ he could be held accountable for. Clark wanted to be sure to nail him down this time, and make sure Lex stayed safe.--  


  
But he was tired and Lex had been telling him some random story about Alexander the Great before the Battle of Issus, and Clark'd grinned because it was just Lex's way of inviting Clark over to keep him company the night before he had to testify against his own father at court. Again.  


  
Clark had teased him about exactly what kind of 'company' Hephaistion provided for Alexander and Lex had laughed lowly into the phone, asking if he considered re-watching some atrocious yet effective comedies they'd made the mistake of buying while under the influence of too much sugar and caffeine an appropriate reenactment.  


  
A brilliant, almost noticeably husky "Yeah." had been Clark's reply, as just the tone of Lex's voice had made him hard and incapable of registering what was being said.  


  
But he'd recovered nicely, making a casual offer to show up in the morning and spend the whole day together as well if Lex was free.  


  
"I don't know Clark, I'm about due for taking a day off of work before the trial, but I'd hate to come between you and your morning cartoons."  


  
"Who says you will? I'll be over early and we can get breakfast and watch them together."  


  
"Clark Kent, are you asking me out on a date?"  


  
Clark'd made a face, laughing, "Congratulations, you _do_ sound like Lana. She actually said that to me once."  


  
"Thank you. I do try."  


  
"I'll let her know next time she calls."  


  
"Probably shouldn't. She might get jealous."  


  
"Nah, she'll say she's happy for me that I've moved on and that she had a feeling something was going on and already knew because she knows me so well but is so surprised that I actually admitted the truth to her for once."  


  
"Bitter you are not, my friend."  


  
"Yeah, well."  


  
"So, wanna meet at the Rill Bakery tomorrow at seven forty? We can pick up breakfast together and walk back to the Penthouse."  


  
"Seven?"  


  
"I'd make it later, but the Warrior Angel cartoon is on at eight and I don't wanna miss it now that I have an excuse to actually watch."  


  
Clark had snickered, "Mmm, of course not. Wouldn't want to come between you and your morning cartoons."  


  
"Brat."  


  
"You love me."  


  
"Always."  


  
He'd smiled like an idiot as he disconnected the phone, getting ready to go out on his nightly patrol around the city, intending to make it back to the dorm in a few hours but leaving a note telling Pete not to wait up.  


  
He'd just never made it back.  


  
Thinking about last night seems to make Clark even hungrier, judging by how his stomach is growling threats at him, though Clark knows that he doesn't really need it. Wouldn't die if he didn't eat.  


  
It's so much better being an alien than he realizes when he's not high. Probably because he doesn't use it for anything fun.  


  
But Clark is all about indulging in what feels good right now.  


  
He grins hugely into his meatball sandwich. Lex always keeps a supply of what he calls 'Clark-food' in the fridge. Lex is a totally sentimental little thing on the inside.  


  
And his.  


-

 

 **Lex**  


  
Lex wakes to find himself alone and it makes perfect sense, accompanied by a dropping sensation in the pit of his stomach, until the sounds of Clark moving around in the kitchen to reach him.  


  
Not alone, then.  


  
He goes out to the small balcony attached to the bedroom, wrapping the sheet around his waist in a halfhearted attempt at decency.  


  
The afternoon sun is darkening the sky to the redder shades of orange over the top of the city and Lex feels farther away from everything and everyone than he ever has before as he leans over the railing to watch.  


  
Usually, Clark is his tether, his landmark in the real world. Clark and all the people associated with him.  


  
He wonders if it'll be like that again when this is over and smiles sardonically because the chances of that are about the same as that of the sun going backwards in the sky so this day never happened.  


  
He's not sure if he wants it to have happened.  


  
"There you are."  


  
Lex doesn't turn around, just lifts one shoulder in acknowledgement, as arms wrap around him from behind.  


  
"Thinking deep thoughts?"  


  
"Something like that, yes." his lips curl into a semblance of a smile.  


  
"Doesn't sound good. I guess we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?" Clark's voice is deep, and even. Sex voice.  


  
Lex's smile grows, and Clark doesn't see it not reaching his eyes when Lex leans back into Clark's arms.  


  
"Hmm."  


  
He can feel Clark grinning where he's kissing Lex's shoulder, and doesn't resist when Clark tugs the sheet out of his hands, letting it pile at their feet. Clark presses him forward with his hips, palms covering his on the railing as he shivers slightly.  


  
Drink-cooled tongue traces patterned licks down the back of his neck and the sensitive hollow of his spine and Lex swears, grinds back shamelessly when Clark pays particular attention to a ridge towards the end that's always been more sensitive than the rest.  


  
He doesn't know if he was quite expecting it but all he does when Clark keeps going down, licking between the crease of his ass, is arch his back like a rentboy's in encouragement.  


  
Doesn't want to think about who Clark did this to before him or how he learned or anything at all. Just the hot, slick slide of Clark's tongue into his ass while he squeezes his eyes shut and decidedly does not look down on the city.  


  
He could come from just this, the wet head of his cock rubbing against metal in front of him.  


  
But Clark reaches up between his legs to stroke his cock once, and groans, the vibrations buzzing against Lex's sensitive skin.  


  
"Need to see this." He murmurs, getting up, and curving an arm around Lex's waist to pull him back against the hard line of his body, one hand spanning almost his entire side while the other brushes teasingly over his cock.  


  
Lex is utterly pliable, and shivery, as he rubs up against the too-light fingertips, cursing.  


  
"You like this, don't you? Out here in the open where anyone can see," Clark lifts his hand away entirely to point at the Daily Planet building, "maybe even _her_."  


  
"Shut up, Clark."  


  
Clark laughs, short and mocking, "Why? Don't want to remember that it's me doing this, doing you?"  


  
"Fuck you."  


  
"Been there, done that. Would love to do it again." his hand comes back to Lex's cock before he could almost, _almost_ whimper at the loss, "But tell me first."  


  
"Tell you what?"  


  
"Who you really want." harsh, scraping bite at Lex's earlobe, "Is it Lois? Hmm?"  


  
He shakes his head, biting his lip and reaching down to press Clark's fingers tighter.  


  
"Not Lois, huh? Too bad. I bet she'd be a great lay. Legs up to here and a birthmark just like Chloe's." their fingers intertwine move over Lex's cock together, "Maybe we could've asked her to stay. Would you like that? Next time, maybe."  


  
Clark hums, licking thoughtfully up the side of Lex's neck, "You could be inside of her, with me inside you."  


  
Lex moans, cock jerking, remembers Clark moving inside of him.  


  
"I'll take that as a yes." Clark laughs a little, "I know she wants you. Why wouldn't she? Everyone wants you, Lex." his voice drops to a rough whisper, "But I want you the most." making Lex shiver. "And I can keep you."  


  
"Would you like that Lex? Would you let me keep you?" Clark's arms tighten around him and he lets his head fall back onto that wide shoulder, back curving in an almost painfully outward bow.  


  
"Fuck, yes."  


  
Clark laughs, louder this time, like a child thrilled with a new toy.  


  
Speeds up their hands and Lex can't analyze any farther, with wet mouth on the back of his neck as he pushes in and out of Clark's hand, rubbing his ass against Clark's cock, hot and hard behind him. Back and forth between two exquisite kinds of torture as if it's what makes up the whole world and he wants to come.  


  
Wants this over with.  


  
Wants things to make more sense and yet not because that'd mean it's over.  


  
Knows he won't even have Clark when it's over.  


  
So maybe Lex wants this to go on forever.  


  
But Clark has other plans--Clark always has other plans, and who's Lex to argue.  


  
His short breaths and pants turn into actual yowling as he comes all over their joined hands, reaching back to pull Clark's mouth down on his. Warm and hungry and he's so--he's fucking pissed.  


  
Pissed off and frustrated and he wants this to never, ever end, but he wants _his_ Clark back. With the shy smiles and searching glances and not so--so _contradictory_ about everything--talking about love and then dragging _Lois_ into it, as if Lex still has any interest in her. As if Lex could actually prefer anyone over Clark. So possessive yet _angry_.  


  
Messing up the one thing that has kept him going this whole damn time.  


  
Morning cartoons and a breakfast made up entirely of donuts, watching Clark lick the custard off his fingers and pretending he doesn't want to be one of them, when the boy throws a smile his way.  


  
Or lean in and lick the sugar from the corner of those lips. Follow the taste inside.  


  
The secrets are worth it.  


  
He doesn't know how much Clark will remember when this is over, but he hates it. Hates not knowing when it'll be over, or how, or if it'll get better or worse.  


  
Lex swallows back the pressure in his throat and realizes that there's a tear seeping out of the corner of his eye. Blinks and moves away from the kiss for a second, gulping in lungfuls of air and making sure the rest of the tears won't dare to show up.  


  
The lone one is already drying due to the wind up here, but Clark sees anyway.  


  
Cups his jaw and turns him around and up to look into his face, brushing his thumb over Lex's cheek and lifting it to his mouth. Clark stares at the moisture for a second before licking cautiously, then leans forward and kisses the soft skin under Lex's eyes.  


  
"What's wrong?" the murmured words sound broken and confused.  


  
"You're not." Lex takes a deep breath, steadying his voice, "This isn't you."  


  
Clark is stepping back, eyes flashing clear and green--not lust-ridden anymore--with anger.  


  
"It _is_ me." he turns and stalks back inside, pausing for a moment at the door, "I'm just _happier_ this way."  


  
Well, fuck.  


  
Lex stands alone for a few minutes before he starts to shiver, realizing that he's naked on his balcony and there's no longer a good reason to be. Inside, the sound of the shower going draws his attention and he stands at the door, just listening for a moment, losing himself in the patterns of the grain on the wood in front of him.  


  
Finds himself sliding in behind Clark minutes later and scrubbing red dust, like sand, off his skin. Jesus--it must be--it must be _everywhere_ by now. He'll have to have the whole house cleaned and aired out.  


  
Every once in a while Clark will stop to lean back against the wall, eyes and teeth clenched as if in pain but waving Lex off when he tries to help. More red film will appear over Clark's skin--everywhere--it really is like sand in that it seems to have gotten to places where it never should've been able to, and Lex will make sure to very, very carefully wash all of it off.  


  
It could've been hours, though since his skin isn't wrinkling yet, it must be much less than that, when they're done.  


  
Clark slides down to sit on the floor and Lex gets down on his knees next to him. Pulls him into his lap and lets Clark hide his face in Lex's chest and pretends that the hot drops streaming onto his skin are no different from the water of the shower. Just sits under the water, holding _his_ Clark, and when Lex bends down to kiss him this time, it feels the same.  


  
But clearer.  


  
Clark's mouth is as warm as always, washed by the cooler water of the shower, which is oddly sensual to sip at from those lips. Lex seeks out the different tastes--traces of salt and ranch from whatever he'd been eating, and clean, sharp wetness.  


  
His Clark.  


-

 

 **Clark**  


  
Afterwards, they raid the fridge for the homemade beef stew Martha had sent via Clark-express, heating it up in a large bowl and taking it to the bed in the room Clark normally uses, along with a bottle of red wine.  


  
The TV's on but they're not really watching. It's all about the ambience, Clark thinks. Just because they can.  


  
Lex laughs because Clark's ready to eat again already, and he makes a show of it, ditching his spoon and digging in with his fingers, watching Lex watch his mouth.  


  
Clark accidentally picks up a chunk of carrot and is about to put it back before his eyes light up, and he reaches over, offering it to Lex with a grin.  


  
After that, he somehow ends up with carrot every time he goes into the bowl, and Lex opens his mouth for them without comment. Taking them in with his tongue, alternating with sips of wine, and licks Clark's fingers clean while Clark watches, mouth slightly open, and tries to keep telling Lex about being an alien.  


  
Lex only smiles slightly when Clark trails off, biting his lip as Lex sucks on the inside of his wrist, and the food is put down and pushed off of the bed to make room for Lex moving over Clark, pulling him down onto his back, and crawling over him.  


  
Their kisses are flavored with wine and stew and Lex stops to breath for a second, kissing the side of Clark's neck, and Clark moves his legs just to feel how tangled they are with Lex's. Revels in it.  


  
Thinks that this might be what it feels like to be 'home,' when Lex snickers into Clark's shoulder.  


  
Clark raises his eyebrow at him, "Something funny?"  


  
Lex eyes him for a second, feeling Clark get more and more uncomfortable, about to do something before he says, "No, just had a weird mental image."  


  
"Of?"  


  
"Plaid bed sheets."  


  
Clark glares. Lex knows that there are still at least a dozen items of clothing with said pattern in the back of Clark's closet, whether Clark wears them while in Metropolis or not.  


  
"Are you offended by my fashion sense, Lex? Because I don't know if we should be doing this if you are."  


  
"No, no Clark, I could never be _offended_ by your fashion sense." Lex replies, eyes wide. Clark seems mollified and leans in to kiss his jaw when Lex adds, "...Or the lack thereof."  


  
Lex gets a pillow to the head instead of the kiss, too fast to be seen.  


  
"That's cheating!"  


  
"Mmm."  


  
Clark smirks down at him, his arms and legs pinning down Lex's. He leans in close and they're staring at each other for a minute or so before Clark realizes he can probably see the flames.  


  
He smirks and grinds down a little.  


  
"So, the flaming eyes," Lex says lightly, "that happens whenever you're aroused--not just when you're high?"  


  
"Yeah. That happens whenever I'm really turned on." The flush on Clark's cheeks could probably be compared to a ripe tomato, but he holds Lex's eyes, grinning.  


  
Then adds hurriedly, "Don't worry, I learned to control it a long time ago, back in Smallville when I first got it--the heat vision I mean. It's just--it's harder to control with you."  


  
Lex hums appreciatively. "When did you get it? Was I in Smallville then?"  


  
"Yeah," Clark clears his throat, "Yes, It was when you. You were um, about to marry Desiree."  


  
"Ah." Lex nods, as if in understanding.  


  
"N-no! I um, it wasn't her, really. I was just, I got it during Health class. Watching a video."  


  
" _Really_."  


  
"Uhm."  


  
"Do tell, Clark." Lex's eyes dance with mirth and he knows he could at least get some really good sex out of this.  


  
Though not tonight, maybe, with both of them so exhausted. Clark's been rough and Lex has the bruises all over to prove it. The now-sober majority of him notices every one of them and winces slightly.  


  
They sleep wrapped around each other, and it's almost disgustingly sweet, how Lex can't seem to stop touching Clark and Clark keeps touching him back, and they don't actually have sex. Just moving into each other and occasionally kissing, just for comfort, just to know that they're both there.  


  
Or at least, Clark hopes it's just that. Because he really, _really_ wants to do the sex thing again. Soon.  


  
In the morning they'll wake up and over breakfast, Clark will grab Lex's hand with an apple still in it, and take a bite. Will lick and suck and tease Lex's fingers until Lex is looking at him through hooded eyes, all short of breath, and Clark will pull him in and kiss him the rest of the way breathless.  


  
Lex will scratch his fingernails down Clark's chest, blunt ends catching on the nipples, making Clark moan into his mouth, and make some passing comment about always wanting to have sex in the kitchen.  


  
Clark will grin and push Lex against the wall then, hold him there with one hand on the middle of his chest while he skims his lips down Lex's sides, and up the insides of his thighs. Leave a mark on the curve of his hipbone that he'll be able to see later with x-ray vision.  


  
Lex will sigh and open his legs wider, still a little sore from last night, despite mutant healing factor, and Clark will look up at him and smile, bright and sweet and _Clark_ -like in a way Lex will know is his and only his. Unaffected by any chemicals, alien or otherwise.  


  
He will stroke Clark's cheek and urge him up so they can kiss, and put his arms around Clark's neck, lifting himself up Clark's body, the muscles of their chest and abdomen sliding against each other, slick with a thin layer of sweat in the early morning heat.  


  
Clark will help Lex wrap his legs around his waist and slip his fingers down Lex's back until he's moving them inside Lex, using the butter he was going to spread on his toast as lube.  


  
" _God_ , Clark."  


  
Lex will hide his face in Clark's neck, biting down on his shoulder when Clark finds that spot inside him that makes him squirm, not quite trying to get away but not able to hold still and Clark will laugh softly.  


  
Lift him up against the wall by his thighs so he can get his cock in place to get inside and Lex will pretend to glare for a second, kissing Clark quiet, and they'll groan into each other's mouths when Clark is finally in all the way.  


  
They'll move all slow and hot against each other, taking their time, with Clark bracing his arms against the wall and Lex using his hold on Clark's upper arms as leverage, and they'll come almost at the same time, shaking with the intensity of it.  


  
Clark will whimper a little, slumping, and fall down to his knees with Lex in his lap, and Lex will shush him, carding his fingers through Clark's hair.  


  
"I love you too, you know." The words will be murmured quietly into Clark's ear and he will look up, just _stare_ for the longest time before smiling.  


  
And Lex will smile back.  


-

 **Lex**  


  
It's a bad day when the phone rings at the same time as the alarm clock and Lex isn't awake enough to answer or shut off either.  


  
He stumbles and curses, falling out of the bed, and finds Clark giggling down at him. All the while looking sleepy-eyed and adorable and this is the definitely the wrong time to wrestle Clark back down onto the covers and make him _pay_.  


  
 _Wrong_.  


  
Because he's realized by now what day it is, and that phone call is probably pretty damn important.  


  
It is, of course.  


  
Not what he expected, though.  


  
A frantic Lois practically babbles--Lois _never_ does that--about the Vergis Labs-blow up--when did _that_ happen?--and where the hell has Lex _been_ all this time? Because the media is all over it and it won't take very long for Lois to reveal the connections she's found between the Labs and Lionel.  


  
"Since you're going to be printing this soon anyway, mind telling me what you know? I've been kind of," Lex glances over to the bed where Clark is starting to sit up, "distracted."  


  
"Vergis Labs were started to do illegal scientific research--yadda, yadda, you know the drill--and it's your father, so he was focusing on anything that might help his liver disease. From what I gathered before the place blew up, there were human subjects being tested on against their will, and meteorites from the shower back in '89 in Smallville were being used. Apparently, your father had some extensive and pretty crazy theories about the properties of refined meteorite and even stooped to kidnapping a few mental patients--originally from Smallville--to do his research on."  


  
"I see." Lex's voice is deadly calm, and quiet. "And the explosion?"  


  
"That happened yesterday right around the time that you and I were talking, before Clark showed up. My guess is that the Labs being blown up was really a cover-up instigated by Lionel to keep the FBI from getting into his research. It could just be that he didn't want to be charged with the extra stuff, or that he didn't want the government to claim the rights to his research, or he could just be pissed off and trying to make something happen while still in jail. Or a combination of the above. Whatever it was, it _completely_ obliterated the building. All that's left is a pile of debris..."  


  
Lois trails off, as if she's shaking her head, and Lex can imagine it, the way she's tilting her head.  


  
"Either way, as soon as the Luthor name gets dragged into this, and your father not available for questioning, everyone will be headed straight for you, so I'd suggest you get ready."  


  
"Thanks Lois." And he really means it. The romantic part of their relationship had been short-lived, and though they'd kept in touch afterwards, mostly out of convenience, she didn't owe him anything, and they both knew it.  


  
"Yeah, yeah. You'll pay me back later." She says almost gruffly as she hangs up.  


  


  
"Here," Clark hands him a cup of coffee, already clean and dressed with no trace of sleep left on him, "drink this."  


  
"Where're you going?"  


  
"I have a class at nine, and some errands to run before that." he can't seem to keep still on his feet and this is not exactly normal Clark behavior.  


  
Although 'normal' might be stretching it a bit when Clark Kent is in question. But he looks pale and shaken and Lex has to hurry to get ready to get to court and face the media.  


  
He reaches out and slides his palm along Clark's cheek, nudging him in close for a kiss.  


  
"Wanna tell me what it is?"  


  
Clark gives a minute shake of the head, eyes not meeting his, and it's a very familiar gesture. The same fan of eyelashes against cheek like dark shadows when Clark has something he can't share with Lex even when Lex can tell he _wants_ to--and damnit. He thought they were past that after yesterday.  


  
But he can at least do now what wasn't allowed before--lean in and brush his lips over those lashes, feather-soft and fulfilled longing, and Clark opens his mouth as if he wants to say something.  


  
"Lex."  


  
Lex waits.  


  
But Clark falters, then flashes a half-hearted smile. "I'll call you." And leaves.  


  
It takes Lex until ten o'clock that night--when he's watching the news--to figure out what " _it_ " is.  


  
It's so obvious, and he's an idiot, and _Clark_ is an idiot and--  


  
Lionel Luthor is a very, very lucky man to be spending the night in a prison cell, and not somewhere Lex can get to him.  


  
He stands up, his teeth clenched tight and thumbnails almost drawing blood as they dig into his palm. The fucking _bastard_ \--oh God. Clark.  


  
Lex scrambles for the phone and of course, it goes straight to voicemail, as it has every time he'd tried to call.  


  
The drive to Clark and Pete's dorm takes half the time it would if Lex paid any attention to the speed limit at all, and Clark would be seriously pissed at him if he knew, reminding Lex that Metropolis roads are _not_ in Smallville, and there are _other cars_ on them, and the city is too big for Clark to always be near enough to come save him.  


  
Fuck, fuck, fuck, the word ran on endless repeat in Lex's mind.  


  
 _He never made it home last night_.  


  
Lex had assumed it was just another Clark-thing, something to avoid bringing up because he knew Clark would shut him down.  


  
" _I was a little tied up_."  


  


  
He remembers one time in Clark's junior year of high school--it had been a tough year on all of them. And that week, especially, with Lex frustrated beyond belief and trying to regain his memories at any cost, had been a bad one.  


  
The betrayal he'd felt at Clark going to _Lionel_ for help in stopping Lex was one Lex took a long, long time to forgive. But Clark had learned his lesson.  


  
His father had actually conspired with Garner to try the procedure on Clark instead, and to this day, Lex still remembers the complete panic of seeing Clark strapped down and lowered into the Memory Tank, writhing and screaming in pain. Shaking hard enough to imitate a minor earthquake.  


  
Lex'd gone berserk, breaking the tank and cradling his friend's limp body, shuddering and twitching in his arms as he walked out. He'd kept walking all the way to the parking garage where his car was, and laid Clark carefully in the passenger seat, buckling him in.  


  
It should've been impossible. Clark was heavier than Lex--more muscle, height, and width--but at the time, he hadn't really been concerned about such details. Adrenaline was useful that way.  


  


  
Clark isn't there when he reaches the dorms, and Pete tells him that he's out on his 'patrol' of the city, making whirring gestures with his finger at high speed, and Lex remembers that Pete knows about Clark's origins already. And now knows that Lex knows.  


  
It would hurt. If Lex didn't respect the fact that Clark needed an uncomplicated and normal 'best friend' relationship that didn't involve sexually intense overtones.  


  
Staying around the room to wait is out of question, and Pete makes it even more clear by his statement that Clark usually doesn't get back until real late, but he'd be sure to tell him that Lex came by.  


  
Lex curves one side of his mouth up and nods farewell. He and Mr. Ross have learned to speak civilly to each other, but that's about as far as it went. Prolonged contact would most likely result in undesirable outcomes.  


  
So. He goes back to the penthouse and has a few drinks, trying to piece together exactly what may have happened. Ends up calling Clark only twice more during the night, in between trying to decide whether the death of human test subjects could be considered premeditated murder.  


  
 _Murder one_.  


  
Lex swallows back another gulp of brandy. _Armagnac_ , _1963_. Meant to be sipped, not abused like this. A taste he shares with his father. _Father_.  


  
He forces out of his mind the feeling of being tainted, being the son of such a man. Having it all come down to this. _Luthor_. Unclean.  


  


  
 _Capital murder with seven aggravating circumstances is punishable by the death penalty in the state of Kansas_.  


  
The death of multiple research-victims held in a lab against their will would most likely fit one of the 'aggravating circumstances' and it doesn't matter that they had been dead already _before_ Clark had blown the damn place up--a quick check of information from his own resources, now that he knew what to look for, had confirmed that--Clark is going to feel guilty anyway.  


  
As far as Lex has been able to discern, there were five people in the building. Two doctors and three armed guards--they must've been pretty desperate when all their human experiments died, to have kidnapped Clark.  


  
He clenches and unclenches his fist, knowing that if Clark hadn't already done something, he'd be going about it right now. Maybe he'd regret it later--a long acquaintance with Clark had that kind of effect on him--but in that moment between knowing what happened and who did it, Lex would've lost it completely and went for revenge.  


  


  
He tries to tell this to Clark, keeping up the phone messages, ranging all the way from drunk and babbling about "Love," and rhapsodizing about ancient Greece to quiet and sober ones, chiding Clark for overreacting. Doesn't Clark know that murder in self-defense is perfectly justifiable in the eyes of law and that not everything is _his_ fault?  


  


  
On the fifth day, Lex leaves a short, terse message, "Clark. This is ridiculous. Call me when you're done being a fourteen-year old with a messiah complex." and tells himself it's the last one.  


  
Because Clark? Is an idiot.  


  
On the sixth day, Lex locks his phone in a desk drawer while at work and leaves it there for the rest of the day. He also doesn't drive by the Met U campus around the halls in which Clark's classes are held. Instead, he buys himself an entire bag of custard donuts from the Rill Bakery only to take them home and leave them on the kitchen counter, because he doesn't actually want to eat them himself.  


  
On the sixth day, Lex thinks that he should probably take his phone out of the drawer and check it for messages now, since there's sure to be important calls he can't afford to ignore.  


  
His fingers have a mind of their own, it seems, calling Clark's number when he hears a tapping on his window.  


  
It's Clark, of course. Only, he's wearing a ridiculously tight blue _thing_. With a red _cape_. Yes, that's definitely a cape. Welcome to the land of comic book superheroes, Clark, he drawls, trying not to get distracted by the fact that he finds the boots to be incredibly sexy.  


  
But it's _Clark_ and so he manages to somehow look good--edible, really--despite everything. And _damn_ Clark anyway. The selfish, pigheaded bastard.  


  
Clark smiles shyly down at Lex, all apologetic blush and averted eyes, as if that will make for _everything_ and the sad thing is that Lex can't help but fall into it, the sweet, sweet warmth of that smile.  


  
Clark holds up a white paper bag printed with outlines of donuts and asks if he's already had breakfast.  


  
Lex tells him he hates him, and hates breakfast, but they sit down and eat anyway, and Clark covers his hand, pretending to reach for the remote and they somehow need _both_ of their fingers to turn on the TV.  


  
It's already on the channel where Warrior Angel has started playing, the credits rolling down in big, purple letters across the screen and Clark turns and grins at him as it goes to a commercial.  


  
And kisses him, licking the powdered sugar Lex _so_ doesn't have in the corner of his mouth.  


  
"So, is the bright-enough-to-make-eyes-bleed attire your self-enforced method of penance?"  


  
Clark rolls his eyes at him, "It's my uniform, Lex."  


  
"For what? The gay fashion parade for aliens?"  


  
"For patrolling in daylight. And you suck."  


  
"I do." Lex moved closer, crowding Clark.  


  
"I have to do _something_ , Lex."  


  
Lex stops advancing, dragging his attention from the curve of Clark's throat, and how it's begging him for a lick.  


  
"You weren't sober, Clark. You were tied up and forced to be under the influence of red kryptonite."  


  
"There were _five_ people in there, Lex. Five _people_."  


  
"All of them had been torturing you for _hours_ beforehand."  


  
Lex's anger is returns full force, and he's clenching Clark's shoulder in a grip that would hurt anyone else.  


  
"Lex," Clark strokes his arm placatingly, "they're dead. And," he puts a finger over Lex's opening mouth, "your father is already on death-row."  


  
"I know." Lex didn't mean for the words to come out so tight, knowing that Clark is paying close attention. Feels those eyes moving like warmth across his face.  


  
Wordlessly, Clark gathers Lex close and tucks his head into his shoulder, and Lex thinks it's funny how the blue material of Clark's suit makes him want to close his eyes, but is as comfortable as flannel.  


  
Figures.  


  
"Hey Clark?"  


  
"Yeah, Lex?" Clark's voice is all soft and serious and Lex has to keep him from sounding like that too often, sexy as it is.  


  
"Is this spandex-that-feels-like-flannel stuff your new plaid? Because we're definitely never going to have bed sheets made out of it, just so you know."  


  
"You. Suck."  


  
Lex grins at him, displaying a dangerous amount of teeth, and nuzzles. Actually _nuzzles_.  


  
"Yeah. I know."


End file.
